When Angel's Fall
by Nicola
Summary: What would have happened if the Mohra demon had killed Angel during the day that wasn't?


When Angel's Fall  
By Nicola  
  
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Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, don't sue.  
Rating: PG (angst)  
Spoilers: IWRY  
Season: 1 AtS  
Started: Aug 8th '01  
Completed: Aug 13th '01  
Teaser: What would have happened if the Mohra demon had killed Angel?  
Notes: To Adia for trying to make the list more active. Keep trying!  
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"What thing?" Buffy repeated to Cordelia, a dangerous and worried look in her eye. Cordy sighed resignedly, looking up at Buffy with sorrowful, if resentful, eyes.  
  
*****  
  
As Angel hit the floor with a hard thud, he knew it had been a bad idea to come after the demon alone, with no power to help him fight. His body ached and throbbed so much it was all he could do not to cry out in pain, and then the demon stood over him with an evil glare. He knew he had won. The Mohra demon raised the sword above his head, and mortal terror swept through Angel's soul. As the sword swung down he squeezed his eyes tight shut, giving his last thoughts to Buffy.  
  
He vaguely heard a thump as Mohra lost his aim, the sword slicing across his stomach instead of his neck. He screamed in pain, rolling over instinctively to shield himself. The burning agony engulfed him, preventing him from observing what was happening around him.  
  
"Angel!" a voice cried out through the haze of his pain. A moment passed as he tried to place it. "Angel!" It cried again, and he knew he'd heard it before. "Angel, how do I kill it?" He forced himself to roll onto his other side, to see the fight.  
  
"Jewel," he mumbled hoarsely. He coughed, a wet, salty substance spewing from his lips and onto the floor. Buffy fell to her knees beside him.   
  
"Angel, how do I kill him?" she repeated hurriedly. But he felt so sleepy. He just wanted to take a nap. Just close his eyes... "Angel!! How..." She was pulled away from her lover with a vicious yank, slamming into the wall.   
  
"Jewel!" Angel called out louder, the effort sending waves of pain to the bleeding wound. Buffy immediately caught on, flipping over to the flail on the floor that Mohra had dropped. Grabbing it, she swung it about her head as the demon prepared itself for it's next assault. As soon as he moved forward Buffy brought the spikes down on the jewel, successfully smashing it. The Mohra demon growled in anger, backing up against the wall before disappearing in a flash of light. As soon as he was gone, Buffy hurried over to Angel's side, rolling him onto his back.  
  
"Oh my God," she murmured, tears escaping her as she examined his wound.  
  
"Buffy," Angel choked out, blood tainting his lips. Buffy ran her fingers through his hair, looking down at him with unadulterated love. "I...love you," he whispered. A sob escaped Buffy as Angel's eyes closed, his head falling back against the floor.  
  
"Angel?" she whispered, unable to believe what she could so obviously see. "No! Angel, Angel wake up," she whimpered, pulling his heavy body into her lap and rocking him. "You have to wake up Angel, I can't do this alone. Please you have to wake up, please. Please," she begged, sobbing as her tears fell into his hair. She moaned as she rocked back and forth, her cheek pressed against his head as his skin cooled slowly against her fingertips. She was dimly aware of shuffling above, and an Irish "Oh God! I'll call the ambulance" but she couldn't acknowledge it.  
  
When the paramedics lowered themselves down, she refused to be moved from his side. If she moved he might not wake up, and she had to be there when he did. Doyle managed to pull her away, and she numbly allowed herself to be strapped into a harness. She watched intently as the paramedics did the same to Angel and together they were pulled up to the top.   
  
A screeching sob echoed throughout the warehouse and Cordelia flew to Angel's side on the floor, clutching his hand and sobbing harshly. Buffy looked on, happenings around her seeming to be dreamlike events. Doyle led her to his car, pulling Cordelia along with him. They followed the ambulance back to the hospital where they were given the heart-breaking news: Angel was dead.   
  
They drove silently back to the office, only sniffling from Cordelia and occasionally Doyle penetrating the heavy quiet that hung around them. Buffy couldn't cry. She knew she should. She knew she should be grieving him, pouring out her soul and raging at the heavens for twisting her life and love once more. But she couldn't find it within herself. All there was left was an emptiness where Angel had been. She had told him that she could feel inside when he was close by. She hadn't told him that when he was far away she could sense that he was there, still fighting evil and making amends. Now there was nothing, like when he reverted to Angelus. Only this time she felt it more acutely.   
  
The three bereaved stumbled into the office and crashed where they could, too wrapped up in themselves to care for those around them. And all night, Buffy dreamt of what they had done, what they could have done if fate hadn't intervened yet again. Cordelia sobbed throughout the night, and Doyle held her in his arms, his cheeks shiny with tears. His worried eyes never left Buffy's face that night. No tears spilt forth, no sobs shook her body, and that unnerved him more than if she'd been taking out her anger on those around her.  
  
When the sun rose, so did the Slayer. She went about making coffee, and at seven she called the Sunnydale gang and told them the news. They were all deeply concerned for her, only Willow truly upset over Angel. It stung Buffy that they cared more for his death's consequences on her than the fact that he was gone, but it barely registered on her pain radar. He whole body ached, worse than if she'd just been in a fight to the death. Without thinking she made four cups of coffee, leaving Doyle and Cordelia theirs and taking the other two downstairs. When the elevator reached the bottom and she stepped out, she realised what she was doing with a jerk, dropping the beverages to the floor. She looked about the apartment teary eyed. She felt sick, and her hand flew to her mouth to halt the onslaught. In a flurry she dashed over to the kitchen sink, throwing herself over it as sobs and vomit and tears all flooded out of her.   
  
She felt a warm hand rubbing her back, and as her stomach dried up, she turned, puffy eyes looking up to see Doyle looking down at her, and Cordelia standing back slightly, looking horrified and miserable all at once. Buffy's legs felt weak as they trembled, and slowly she sank down against the counter, her knees tucked under her chin. Doyle sat down with her, pulling her head against his shoulder as she moaned, burying herself against him to hide from the pain. He only wished he could shield her. Cordelia sat down too, leaning on his other shoulder. She didn't cry, she had already cried. Instead she stared blankly around the apartment that looked and smelt distinctly of Angel.   
  
Gradually Buffy calmed, her tears drying against her cheeks and her sobs turning into hitched breathing.  
  
"Why?" she asked shakily, "Why'd they give him to me if they were just going to take him away?" Doyle sighed, long and painfully.  
  
"I don't know the answers, but I can take ya to someone who does," Doyle offered, looking down at her blonde head. Buffy nodded, sitting up and stretching lithely, before pulling herself to her feet. Doyle followed, pulling Cordelia up with him. "First ya have to get a gift," he instructed.  
  
*****  
  
"What have you brought me?" asked the female Oracle expectantly, walking towards Buffy. The Slayer held out her hand, offering one of her gold necklaces. To her surprise it flew from her grasp and into the hand of the woman before her.  
  
"What do you want, lower being?" the male Oracle asked indignantly, following his sister towards the Slayer.  
  
"Answers," she replied immediately.  
  
"To what?" asked the female Oracle, moving to stand to the left of Buffy, before walking in front of her again. They never seemed to stand still.  
  
"Why was Angel turned human?" she asked, forcing her tears back and holding her head up high. She would keep her composure if it was the last thing she ever did.   
  
"The Mohra demon was sent by the Dark Side to take a fighter from the Good Cause. He succeeded," the female answered nonchalantly.   
  
"So it was never you," Buffy confirmed. The Oracles stopped, titling their heads as if listening to something. They both nodded simultaneously. Buffy stood up tall, breathing in deep and steeling herself for what she was about to ask. "Then can you please bring him back?" The Oracles stopped, a look of horror on their faces.  
  
"You ask us to change what was done, go against fate?" the male Oracle questioned disbelievingly. Buffy nodded.  
  
"What you ask is impossible," the female Oracle said, a trace of sadness in her tone, "We cannot do it." They turned to leave, when Buffy cried,  
  
"Please! I'll do anything, just please bring him back." The Oracles stopped on the steps, turning back to face her.  
  
"What would you do to have your lover back?" the female Oracle asked, a curious glint in her eye.  
  
"Anything," Buffy replied sincerely, "I'd do anything, just please bring him back." The male Oracle scoffed.  
  
"This is a matter of love. It does not concern us." He turned once more.  
  
"It does!" Buffy cried, halting him once more. "Mohra didn't just take Angel from the fight, he's taken me. How can I fight when I have nothing to fight for?" she whispered brokenly, her head bowed. Then she straightened, her muscles rigid and her voice determined. "I know you can make this right. You can change this so that we are both back in the game." The female Oracle considered something for a moment.  
  
"There is a way," she drew out finally. Her brother looked at her beseechingly.  
  
"We cannot change what has already been done," he said.  
  
"But what is not done can be prevented," the female Oracle argued. Her brother looked annoyed.  
  
"Temporal folds are not to indulge the whims of lower beings!" he retorted, nodding in the direction of Buffy, who looked a little confused and more than past patient.  
  
"Hey! This 'lower being' happens to be the Slayer, a certain girl who was given a destiny without any consultation or choice and has since then fought - for you and your bosses - to protect a world that doesn't even acknowledge her. The least you could do is show some respect! You're waging the war, it's me and my kind that has to fight it!" Buffy's face was flushed and her breathing heavy, anger radiating off her in waves. The male Oracle was stunned, and his sister took the opportunity to speak.  
  
"There is one way. We swallow these two days, as if they never happened. We take back everything from the demon breaking in," she said. Buffy frowned.  
  
"So everything that happened, never happened. Angel and I... He'll be alive?" Buffy whispered, confused.  
  
"He will be as he was," the Oracle confirmed, nodding her head. Buffy swallowed.  
  
"How do we stop it all from happening again?" she asked, not liking the two choices she had at all.  
  
"You," the Oracle replied, "You alone will have the memories of the events, and you alone must stop them from repeating themselves. Can you handle that burden?" Buffy nodded, sniffing as a tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
A flash of light found her at Doyle's feet. He helped her up, looking questioningly into her eyes.  
  
"Well?" he asked hopefully. Buffy graced him with a watery smile before walking out. He followed soon after.  
  
Wrapped up in Angel's coat, Buffy sat on the back of his sofa, watching the second hand tick by on the clock. In just a minute the horrible torment would be over and she would be back in the office, his gorgeous face looking at her in confusion and hurt as she tried to say good bye for the last time. Slowly she ran her speech through her head, trying to remember every word she said and was going to say. Tears slid freely down her cheeks as she looked around, memorising every detail of his home. In just under thirty seconds the kitchen table would be fixed and standing upright, oblivious to its secondary use they had put it to. She looked up at the clock again, the seconds hand seeming to go in slow motion, its ticking echoing through her head as she counted down. Five, four, three, two...  
  
*****  
  
"Given enough time we should...woah." Buffy stopped mid-sentence, wavering on her feet slightly.  
  
"Are you okay?" Angel asked quickly, stepping toward her. Buffy looked up into his eyes, those two gorgeous chocolate brown eyes that she thought she'd never see again, and her heart leapt at the concern in them. She buried her tears of happiness, saving them for later. She forced herself to regain her bearings, nodding and looking away. Angel realised the tension, and stepped back, sighing in defeat. As he sat himself down on the edge of his desk, Buffy looked expectantly at the window. Just as she knew he would, Mohra crashed through, glass littering the floor. Angel moved to attack him, but he was kicked out of the way. Buffy grabbed the clock from his desk and, ducking under a punch, she smashed it into the jewel on his forehead before jumping back out of the way. Mohra growled as he vanished in a flash of white light. Angel slowly pulled himself off the desk, looking at the spot where the demon had been only seconds before in astonishment.  
  
"That was...amazing," he said in admiration. Buffy nodded shyly.  
  
"There was one in town last week," she offered lamely, a sheepish smile on her face. Angel just nodded. "Sorry about your clock," she said, pointing at the broken object on the floor. Angel chuckled.  
  
"No problem," he replied, bending down to pick it up. Buffy took the moment to relish the feeling she had of him being alive, filling that part of her heart that had felt dead and empty minutes before.  
  
"Look, I gotta go. Keep your eye out though. The one I killed said Evil was on its way up," she said. Angel smiled in appreciation, making Buffy smile in return. Realising the more time she spent there, the harder it would be not to tell him everything, she spun on her heel and walked out, not daring to look back.  
  
Out in the LA sunshine, Buffy soaked up the Angel-feel in her soul, and burst out into happy tears. He was alive, and they had parted on amicable terms. Everything was good and she practically skipped over to her mom's car, a grin lighting up her tear-streaked features.  
  
Angel watched curiously through a gap in the shades as Buffy hopped into her car and drove off. What was all that about?  
  
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End  



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